


It's In The Cards

by ShieldOfIron



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Sex Games, Shameless Smut, Truth or Dare, Unusual Pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShieldOfIron/pseuds/ShieldOfIron
Summary: “How about you start the game and stop your mouth.” Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder, pretending that she hadn’t glanced at Harry while she did. “And maybe you’ll find out how much I know.”Draco whistled. “Very bold, Weasley, very bold.”“Ginny!” Hermione had to hold herself back from stomping her foot overdramatically.“I’ll play too.” Harry added hastily.“You cannot be serious.” Hermione was incredulous. Just one dare from Malfoy was all it took to have them completely lose their heads.“Fraid not, Potter, it has to be in pairs.” Draco ran his eyes over the youngest Weasley sibling, just to watch Potter go helpless.“Hermione could play.” Harry offered desperately.“Harry!” Hermione shook her head.“What’s going on?” Ron said from the doorway. He was balancing a large stack of books, while George stood grinning behind him.“The slytherins have challenged us to a game.” Harry replied.





	1. Hold on to yer wands if ye want to keep them, Lads

**Author's Note:**

> JK Rowling owns it, you know it.
> 
> Read my other story at: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10852146/1/Soul-of-My-Soul

“You want us to come over Saturday night to study?” Harry’s incredulous voice rang out over the Gryffindor's boisterous dinner table.  
  
“Keep your voice down!” Hermione chastised him.  
  
“Why? It’s not embarrassing,” Harry replied.  
  
“Yes, it is,” Ron corrected.  
  
“Hermione, we’re about to graduate! Don’t you want to celebrate that?” Harry almost spilled his pumpkin juice waving his arms around.  
  
Hermione tapped a finger on her thick advanced transfiguration textbook. “We have finals next week, Harry. You can celebrate afterwards.”  
  
“But it’s Saturday night!” Ron protested.  
  
“You can’t give up one Saturday night before the N.E.W.T..s?” Hermione shot back.  
  
“George was going to come by and we were going to test out his new bucking broomsticks this Saturday.” Ginny said as she walked up and stood behind her brother, watching in disgust as Ron tore into a chicken leg with gusto.  
  
Harry kept his eyes trained on his plate to avoid meeting his ex’s eye… or, whatever they were, Ginny hadn’t ever been clear. When he’d come back for his last year, he’d foolishly thought that Ginny might have been waiting for him. But they’d spent the whole year in flirty, awkward limbo, neither willing to say a word about where their relationship stood.  
  
“I’m sorry, are you telling me all three of you would rather break your arm falling from a broom than do well on exams?” Hermione shook her head.  
  
“Well, maybe if we break our arms, we’ll get an extension on exams.” Ginny joked.  
  
“You might, but they won’t,” Hermione refuted her, “Harry, Ron, it’s the N.E.W.T.s! You can’t just blow this off as you have with all your other exams, especially if you want to go for auror training.”  
  
Ron let out a sigh, meeting his ex girlfriend’s eye reluctantly.  
  
“I’ll take that as a yes. We’ll go to my common room after dinner, then?” Hermione smiled and took a satisfied bite of mashed potatoes.  
  
“Alright, I’ll give up my Saturday night, but why do we have to go to your common room? Can’t we go to the library?” Harry whined.  
  
He was thinking of the ever-present Draco Malfoy, who shared Hermione’s tower as head boy.  
  
Ginny agreed with Hermione. “No, the library is packed, and so his our common room. Yesterday I had to do my reading on the Quidditch bleachers. Mind if I tag along, ‘Mione? This muggle studies exam is giving me a headache.”  
  
“Of course! Besides, Saturday night Malfoy always goes out with his horrible friends, and doesn’t come back ‘til late. My common room will be totally free,” Hermione promised.  
  
\---  
  
Meanwhile, at the more sober, and less populated Slytherin table.  
  
“Did you get it?” Draco asked of his best friend quietly.  
  
“My cousin sent it this morning,” Blaise replied, bent over his plate.  
  
“What are you guys talking about?” Pansy interrupted, brushing back a glossy lock of hair.  
  
Blaise glanced at her surreptitiously. “My cousin sent me his Truth or Dare deck.”  
  
Pansy’s eyes widened as the boys smiles did the same. “Are you serious?”  
  
“As a stunning spell. You in?” Draco glanced around the table.  
  
“Of course. When?”  
  
“This Saturday, in my common room. Try to get Daphne or a fourth to come?” Draco replied. Without meaning to, he found his eyes wandering to the Gryffindor table. Hopefully Granger would be too busy trying to get into Weasley’s pants, and wouldn’t come to the common room on Saturday.  
  
Pansy pulled a grimace. “She won’t want to, she’s going crazy about the potions master exam. Can’t it just be the three of us?”  
  
“Well we need pairs.” Blaise frowned.  
  
“We’ll figure it out.” Draco assured them.  
  
“I’ve never played before.” Pansy breathed.  
  
Blaise smiled. “Neither have we, but my cousin told me the rules. It’s easy.”  
  
Pansy rubbed her hands together quietly in excitement. With exams coming up, she really needed to blow off some steam. And what better way to do it than with a steamy card game? If it helped her get closer to her ex… all the better. She glanced over at the oblivious Draco, who seemed to be absentmindedly staring at the Gryffindor table.  
  
\---  
  
Friday night after dinner, Hermione headed up to the Head Girl and Boy’s tower with a stack of textbooks. Walking up to the painting of a wizard standing on the deck of a storm-tossed ship, she recited the password.  
  
“Wrong, Lassie!” The wizard shouted back, struggling with the rigging against a gale.  
  
“What?” Hermione goggled. “But, Sir Magnus, that’s been the password for weeks!”  
  
“Yer boyfriend changed it!” He called, “Hoist the mains boys! And keep yer hands on yer wands, if ye want te keep them!”  
  
“He’s not my boyfriend,” She growled, “He’s a pale little git.”  
  
“I’m so tired of this bloody storm!” Sir. Magnus ignored her protests.  
  
“What am I supposed to do? Just wait for him?” Hermione pouted.  
  
“I’m not in charge of yer life, Lassie!” He replied, distracted by a huge wave that crashed over the deck.  
  
Hermione turned with a determined grimace and charged off to the great hall, where she found Malfoy just outside the door, snogging with a petite Ravenclaw.  
  
“Ferret!” She growled.  
  
He broke the kiss and met her eye with a wicked glint in his. “Yes, my love.”  
  
“I told you not to call me that, it’s not funny,” She hissed.  
  
“But how should I call you?” He murmured something quietly to the Ravenclaw, who laid a deep kiss on him before skipping away. Hermione rolled her eyes.  
“If you don’t tell me the new password this instant, you can call me your murderer.” She said firmly.  
  
“Has anyone ever told you you’d catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?” Draco replied, amused. Watching Granger get riled up was one of the highlights of his days.  
  
“Maybe I’d rather the flies not be buzzing around at all,” Hermione shot back. Ever since they had made a truce in order to live together, Malfoy had found a new way to torture her. Instead of the insults he’d lobbed at her in the past, now he’d decided flirting with her was the best way to annoy her. And, annoyingly enough, he was right. She couldn’t outright say he was being derogatory, because he wasn’t, and he hadn’t crossed a line beyond the one, very peculiar, nickname. But it irked her like nothing else.  
  
He sauntered up to her, just a little too close and she stiffened. She was still terrified of him trying to cross a line, although he’d stayed just on the right side of respectful with her.  
  
“‘Truth or dare’, Granger,” Draco kept his voice low and silky, knowing it would throw her off.  
  
“Excuse me?” She asked.  
  
He eyed her reaction for a moment before replying. “That’s the new password. ‘Truth or dare.’”  
  
She faltered for a second, not trusting that he’d given up so easily.  
  
“Give it a try, my love. Who knows, you might even like it.” Draco winked, and slowly turned towards the library. Maybe he’d find a way to get a fourth player after all.  
  
Hermione stood confused for a moment, before calling out to him. “Five points from Slytherin for PDA!”  
  
He didn’t turn back to her to reply. “Oh, Weasley hasn’t been around for a while, is someone getting a little hard up?”  
  
“You wish!” She taunted.  
  
\---  
  
“Hey, ‘Mione?” Ron ventured timidly during dinner.  
  
“Yes?” Hermione barely glanced up from her Potion’s study guide.  
  
“Um… well you know how I said that George was going to come today, and we were going to try out his bucking broomsticks?” Ron shared a nervous glance with Harry and Ginny. Hermione was never exactly an easygoing person, but exams really put her on the edge.  
  
She set down her quill and fixed him with a long suffering glare. “Yes, I remember.”  
  
“Well… with all the studying I’ve been doing and everything… I kind of forgot to send him a letter,” Ron said, cringing.  
  
“Ron! You promised we would do some work tonight!” She sighed. Everyone had told her it would be hard to be friends with her ex, and she hadn’t listened.  
  
“We will, it’s just that he’s here…” Ron trailed off.  
  
“Can’t he go home?” Ginny offered.  
  
“Well… see the reason he came is that Fred and Angelina are on their honeymoon and he’s… kind of lonely, you know,” Ron explained.  
  
Hermione softened, “Oh.”  
  
“Yeah. Would it be alright if he just tagged along?” Ron said hopefully.  
  
Hermione averted her eyes, looking at Harry instead. “I suppose. It’s not his fault you forgot.”  
  
Ron beamed, “Hey, thanks, ‘Mione.”  
  
Harry shot her a look, dropping his napkin on the table. “You all ready, then?”  
  
Ron grabbed an extra corn muffin, and stood up from the table with his books. “Alright, I’ll just head to the common room to get my books. What’s the password?”  
  
“‘Truth or dare.’” Hermione answered, fighting to keep her eyes from rolling. “See you upstairs.”  
  
Ron nodded and headed back towards the Gryffindor tower, shaking his head. His ex girlfriend was one of the bossiest people he’d ever met. Sometimes he wished she could just slow down and enjoy life, just a little bit.  
  
Three Gryffindors headed towards the tower together, chatting animatedly about the day. With finals, they’d had little time to catch up. Hermione had been locking herself in her rooms or the library every night, and Ginny had been in practice for the final match against Ravenclaw tomorrow. She pushed open the door with a sigh of contentment.  
  
“Shut the door will you, my love.” A low voice rumbled through the room.  
  
Harry almost leapt out of his skin as Hermione hissed at the blond sitting on the floor. The three Slytherins were sitting on floor pillows, looking up with inscrutable expressions. Malfoy was shuffling a deck of blank cards with the precision of a blackjack dealer.  
  
“I thought you’d be out,” Hermione bit out.  
  
Pansy scowled at her. “Obviously, we thought the same.”  
  
“We’re playing a game in here, Granger, can’t you betray Weasley with his sister while Potter wanks it in the corner another night?” Malfoy barely turned a hair as he handled the cards.  
  
Hermione tossed her head haughtily. “Fine, if you won’t let us use the common room to study, we’ll go up to my room.”  
  
“Can’t. We’re using it.” Malfoy met her eye with a challenging glint.  
  
“Excuse me? You can’t use my room!” Hermione snapped.  
  
“I need it. And I figured you could always sleep at the library again.” Draco replied nonchalantly.  
  
“What could you possibly need my room for?” Hermione asked with restrained rage in her voice.  
  
“The game,” Blaise replied with a grin. “In case some players need privacy.”  
  
“I’ll probably regret asking this, but what game?” Harry laid a hand on Hermione’s shoulder calmingly. She shook him off.  
  
“Truth or dare.” Pansy replied with a sneer.  
  
“ You don’t need my room for that!” Hermione objected.  
  
“Not muggle truth or dare. This is a magical card game from Italy, hundreds of years old.” Pansy replied.  
  
“It’s called Nelle Carte in Italian, which means ‘In the cards.’” Blaise supplied. “But no one’s going to say that, because it’s rubbish.”  
  
“Aren’t you all going to study? Exams are just around the corner!” Hermione protested.  
  
“All the more reason. I’ve spent every Saturday for the past month holed up with books and these nerds,” Blaise drawled.  
  
“Maybe if Draco was less of a bloody slave driver about it,” Pansy joked, throwing her ex-boyfriend a teasing look.  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow at her roommate. So that’s where he had been all those nights. And all this time she had just assumed he was out shagging the female population of Hogwarts into a disappointed stupor.  
  
“Is that a look of surprise, and even… oh, look, everyone, there in the corner of Granger’s eye, I spy some respect for me,” Draco laughed as she stepped forward to swat his pointing finger away.  
  
“Dream on.” Hermione snapped.  
  
He ran his eyes up and down her body, and Hermione fought the urge to brush her hair back or consider her appearance at that moment. She’d been planning on studying all night, and so she had elected to wear a pair of baggy sweats that had once belonged to Ron and a tank top. She looked woefully undressed compared to his after class uniform of crisp white shirts and slacks that hugged his hips just enough to…  
  
She broke off that thought with a little shake of her head and met his eye squarely. Hormones.  
  
“My love, you don’t want to know what you do to me in my dreams.” He laughed.  
  
Pansy scoffed, and looked away. Her ex may believe he was toying with the Gryffindor, but if she had to bet, there was more than just a little interest behind his bluster.  
  
Ginny leaned over the cards curiously as Blaise shuffled lazily. They were blank, but every once in awhile a card would shimmer mesmerizingly.  
  
“Want to play, Weaslette?” He looked up at her, one dark brow raised.  
  
She reared back, “Isn’t Nelle Carte a… sex game?”  
  
He grinned widely, his teeth showing pearly white against his deep skin. “That it is.”  
  
Ginny smiled politely. “Oh.”  
  
“You need not worry about me, Weasley, I play for a different team. Not that that matters in the game,” He strung a card through his fingers, watching the colors shift as he touched them.  
  
“How does it work?” Harry interjected, watching this exchange more than a little warily.  
  
“It’s called truth or dare, but that’s not entirely accurate. We each draw two cards for the first round, one which picks your partner for the game, and the second which tells you a task,” Blaise explained. “Then you keep your partner card, and draw another card every round until it’s through.  
  
“What are the tasks?” Ginny snuck a glance over at Harry just in time to see him look away. Why was he always so shy with her? She was always trying to hang around, hoping not to be too obvious. But as the year had worn on, he seemed to have gotten less and less interested.  
  
“They can be anything from sharing a secret with everyone to…” Blaise trailed off meaningfully.  
  
“You may need to spell it out for them, I doubt Potter got much past an accidental grope or two.” Draco couldn’t resist messing with them, and their reactions didn’t disappoint. Weaslette glared, and Potter turned beat red and shifted his eyes to the floor.  
  
“How about you start the game and stop your mouth.” Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder, pretending that she hadn’t glanced at Harry while she did. “And maybe you’ll find out how much I know.”  
  
Draco whistled. “Very bold, Weasley, very bold.”  
  
“Ginny!” Hermione had to hold herself back from stomping her foot overdramatically.  
  
“I’ll play too.” Harry added hastily, knowing he was being obviously jealous and not at all caring.  
  
“You cannot be serious.” Hermione was incredulous. Just one dare from Malfoy was all it took to have them completely lose their heads.  
  
“Fraid not, Potter, it has to be in pairs.” Draco ran his eyes over the youngest Weasley sibling, just to watch Potter go helpless.  
  
“Shame.” Blaise interjected with a wink.  
  
“Hermione could play.” Harry offered desperately.  
  
“Harry!” Hermione shook her head, disappointed.  
“What’s going on?” Ron said from the doorway. He was balancing a large stack of books, while George stood grinning behind him.  
“The slytherins have challenged us to a game.” Harry replied.  
  
“You’re on!” Ron set down his books with an alarming quickness and a huge grin. Thank god for a distraction from studying!  
  
“Excuse me? We are not going to play a sex card game, we were going to study!” Hermione protested. Really, they would do anything to get out of a little schoolwork.  
  
“Is it truth or dare?” George ignored her and peered over their group at the cards.  
  
“Have you played before?” Ginny asked.  
  
“Yes and it’s bloody good fun.” He replied with a saucy grin at Pansy, who looked swiftly away.  
  
“There’s too many gingers in here,” She whispered to Draco with a sniff.  
  
“What do you say, ‘Mione?” Harry offered sheepishly.  
  
“You really all want to play this game? When we have exams next week?” Hermione knew it probably wouldn’t help to appeal to their intellect, but it couldn’t hurt.  
  
“We’ve been studying and studying.” Ron sighed dramatically.  
  
“It’s not a very long game, Hermione. The cards play out until the players choose to stop. We could just play a few rounds.” George said helpfully.  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes and focused them on the Italian. “I have some questions.”  
  
“I already explained how it works, but I guess you were busy eye fucking with Drake here, so I can explain again.” Blaise jabbed, averting his eyes and shuffling the cards again.  
  
Hermione refused to sputter, although she was sure her cheeks were red. “Do we change partners every round or is it the same person?”  
  
“From what my cousin said, the partner card can change at the whim of the cards, although it is often the same person as the first round.” Blaise explained.  
  
“The dares…” She hesitated. Ron and Harry looked at her expectantly. “Can they be in private if they’re… more private?”  
  
“Why do you think we commandeered your room?” Pansy answered.  
  
“And they’re… always sexual?” She knew she was coming across as a real prude but… sex wasn’t just about fun and games. It wasn’t something she could take so lightly, and she was surprised her friends could. Although Harry was likely just hoping Ginny wouldn’t be permanently paired with a vile slytherin. And Ron… when they had broken up, part of it had certainly been that neither of them had been with anyone else. Hermione had taken the time since then to be by herself. Maybe this was Ron’s way of letting her know he hadn’t.  
  
“Why? Don’t tell me Weasley’s a limp noodle. You’d think with all those siblings, fertility would be the one thing they’re good for.” Pansy said snottily.  
  
“Care to test the theory, Parkinson?” George grinned, enjoying the way she turned away. He loved making jabs at people who were stuck up. Although Parkinson had certainly filled out in the years since he’d left school, all curves and softness. He wouldn’t mind doing a little sticking up while he was at it.  
  
“They can be sexual, they can be silly, the only way to know is to play, Granger. You in, or out?” Zabini handed her a blank card. She looked at it, unsure.  
  
“I don’t know.” She confessed.  
  
“You helped defeat the dark lord, and you’re afraid of a card telling you to have a snog?” Draco hoped he was keeping his cool. For some reason, it felt vitally important to get Granger in on the game. Although partially that had to be because if he wasn’t paired with the Weaslette (gag) he would get his ex girlfriend (awkward) or a bloke. And, a few drunken kisses with Blaise aside, he wasn’t too keen on really hooking up with a member of his same sex. Granger was his only hope.  
  
Of course, he wouldn’t mind ruffling a few of those Gryffindor feathers while he was at it. A plan began hatching in his mind.  
  
“I’m not afraid…” She corrected.  
  
Draco stood up from where he had been lounging on the couch, and met her eye. “Afraid of a big bad penis? I think you are.”  
  
“This is childish, Malfoy,” She stood firm.  
  
He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Or are you afraid you might like the game? I bet you’d like it, and then you’d look like a real fool.”  
  
“I wouldn’t like it,” She said back, although she seemed frozen by his closeness.  
  
“Then prove it, once and for all. If you play this game, I’ll never bother you again. No jokes, no innuendo, no teasing. I’ll be a perfect gentleman to you til the day I die,” He vowed.  
  
“I don’t-”  
  
“You know the job you’re applying for at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” He cut her off.  
  
“Yes?” She furrowed her brow. How did he know that?  
  
“I was already accepted as one of their junior clerks. You’re likely to be hired. Now I could make work very pleasant, or… you could go to study right now.” Draco offered, trying and failing to ignore the soft vanilla scent of whatever lotion or perfume she used. This would be fun.  
  
Hermione pursed her lips. “You’re on.”  
  
He stepped back and they looked at their friends, who were already forming a loose circle on the floor.  
  
“I’ll play, but we’ll stop when it gets too late, so we can fit in at least a little reading.” Hermione announced. Hermione and Draco stepped into the circle, with her moving away as quickly as was polite.  
  
“What did he say to you?” Ron wondered out loud.  
  
“Nothing important,” Hermione replied cautiously, sitting down on the floor. It seemed like no one wanted to seem too close, and yet the three Slytherins were clearly on one side separate from the rest. Blaise began quietly doling out cards.  
  
She already had her first card, and she watched as it shimmered iridescent colors as the cards were being passed. When Draco received his second card, everyone’s hand began to shine a little brighter. Hermione watched, rapt, as letters began to form. Her second card read “Leave a mark on their neck for everyone to see.” She sighed, glad it wasn’t a more risque thing. Then she checked her second card.  
  
“Oh Goddamn it!” She cursed, looking up and meeting Malfoy’s smug face. He held up his matching card which read ‘Hermione Granger’.  
  
“Before you ask, the cards choose.” He replied triumphantly.  
  
She was loath to believe him, but judging by the uncomfortable glances going around the circle he was probably right. Everyone looked pretty put out, except for George, who was as relaxed as ever. Harry and Ron looked as though they had instantly regretted agreeing to play. Which Hermione would have relished...  
  
If it weren’t for the fact that soon she would be sucking Draco Malfoy’s neck.  
  
Hermione groaned, meeting Harry’s terrified gaze. It was going to be a long night.


	2. Servant Girls can run much faster than Lazy Princes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So who am I in this scenario?” His eyes were heavy and entrancing, but his tone was light and easy.  
> “What?” She asked, her eyes looking up at him with confusion. He used the distraction to pull her slightly closer, so that their chests brushed. Not too close, however. He was afraid if she realized he was hard, she would end the spell between them for good.  
> “Am I the fairy, because I gave you the dress? Or the prince?”  
> She snorted incredulously. “Way to flatter yourself. This is nothing like the story really. I just meant the dress is magic.”  
> “I think it’s more like the story than you think.” He replied.  
> “Why do you say that?” She raised an eyebrow.  
> “I don’t have a glass slipper to offer you, but what I’m offering… I guarantee it’s a perfect fit.” He whispered into her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JK Rowling owns my soul, and all of the characters.
> 
> Also if anyone has ideas for dares please comment!

Ron groaned, glancing up across the circle at the smoky brown eyes of his partner. Well that was certainly awkward. Although it seemed that the cards were pushing him towards the realization that he had slowly been making for months: he was definitely attracted to men, not exclusively, but definitely. Maybe the cards were just random, but he hoped they weren’t. The only thing more embarrassing than having to quietly come out during a game would be to have to kiss (or more) with his brother or sister.

“Well will you look at that?” Blaise said, cheerfully oblivious. “Ron Weasley.” He glanced up at his partner, who was red in the face and looking as though he was about to murder him. Blaise just shrugged. His cousin had told him that the cards subtly took preference into account, which Blaise had been counting on. Hopefully Weasley was at least slightly attracted to men, Blaise did not want to be forcing anyone to do anything. And he’d been hoping not to force himself, so he was glad to have gotten a bloke at least.

“You don’t have to announce it.” Weasley mumbled.

“People are going to find out in a few moments when I start…” Blaise checked his other card. “Showering you with compliments. Oh Merlin, that’s lame. Who’d you get Pans?”

Pansy was bright red and trying to look nonchalant. “I’d prefer not to announce everything to everyone.”

“Who is it?” Draco asked, trying to sneak a peek.

“Bugger off,” She elbowed him away.

“She got me.” George announced with a grin. At the very least this wouldn’t be an awkward game of trying to hook up Hermione, who was practically his sister. He wasn’t sure he could get it up for that.

Pansy shook her head. Of all the people. George Weasley might have grown up as far as looks, but he was still as childish as ever. She glanced down at her second card and closed her eyes. This was about to be even more humiliating.

Harry was still reacting to his cards too, at once deliriously happy and miserably anxious. He checked to his right and saw Ginny side-eying him too.

She smiled weakly and shrugged as if to say ‘I’m not surprised.’

“So then I guess you two got each other,” Pansy smirked at Harry and Ginny. “Awkward, isn’t that.”

“You just want to get off the subject of you and my brother.” Ginny replied, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Yeah, and on the subject of me, what do you have to do, Parkinson? Because I’ve got to serenade you.” George looked utterly unperturbed by Pansy glaring at him.

“Why do we keep getting these dull dares?” Draco complained, frowning at his card. Hermione perked up instantly, hoping he had something a lot less spicy than she did.

“Like I said, I’d prefer not to announce everything to everyone.” She replied.

“Maybe they’re not all dull.” Blaise said with a raised eyebrow. He glanced at Draco and instantly they were on her, Blaise holding her arms quickly while Draco snatched her card and stood out of reach.

Pansy stood and strained to grab it, but she was too short.

“Well Weasley, you’re about to be a very lucky man!” Draco announced triumphantly. “Oral sex.”

Hermione frowned. “She shouldn’t have to share if she doesn’t want to.” And there was reason number five hundred and seven why Draco Malfoy was disgusting.

Pansy cocked her head. “I’m a big girl, Granger, I don’t need your help. Besides, it’s just a game.”

Hermione met Ginny’s eye and they both frowned. This was a terrible idea.

“Well Weasley.” Blaise broke the mood, offering his hand to Ron. “Want to head to the kitchen? I’d rather not shower you with compliments in front of this crowd.”

Ron nodded mutely, trying not to psych himself out too much. Like Parkinson had said, it was only a game.

They went into the warm little kitchen. Of course the head girl and boy would always go down to eat with the rest of the students, but nonetheless their tower had a small room, just big enough for a sink and some cupboards. Hermione’s french press sat on the counter, with some grounds still on the bottom, filling the room with a bitter, comforting scent. They could barely fit in there, the two of them, but they managed, and Blaise closed the heavy door. He turned back to Ron, and magically lit the small sconce that hung on the wall.

They just looked at each other for a moment. Then Blaise laughed and looked down, almost awkwardly, and Ron cocked his head to the side at the unfamiliar sound.

“Well I don’t know what a ‘shower’ of compliments really entails.” Blaise confessed.

Ron cracked a relieved smile. “More than one, but less than a million?”

“That narrows it down.” Blaise replied with a smirk. “You do… like blokes, don’t you?”

Ron hesitated.

“It’s ok if you’re not gay.” Zabini could be surprisingly reassuring. “I just thought since the card…”

“No... I do, at least I think I do, but I’ve never…”

“Good. I mean, not good that you’ve never… well I guess that is good… I don’t know I’m nervous.” Zabini admitted, running his hand through his silky black hair.

“I’m surprised you can admit that.” Ron leaned on the counter, relaxing a little for the first time.

Blaise shrugged. “What do I have to gain by lying? The game will go on regardless.”

Ron’s eyebrows shot up. “I suppose you’re right.”

“So… do you want to do your dare first?” Blaise offered, still feeling ill at ease.

Ron shook his head, maybe too swiftly. “I need a few compliments first.”

Blaise ran his hands through his hair again. It wasn’t that he’d never noticed Weasley before, of course he had. But with Weasley seeming so straight, Blaise had never thought of him beyond the occasional nuisance or random thought.

“You’re funny.” He burst out.

Weasley furrowed his brow in response.

“In class, you can be really funny.” He expanded.

“Like, I’m stupid?” Ron frowned.

“No, I mean you say funny things.”

“Oh. I never thought of myself as funny.”

Maybe this dare was harder than Blaise may have initially thought.

“You’re very agile, and normally tall men are ungainly.” Blaise thought back to the few times he had noticed Weasley. “You’re very light on your broom. That’s why everyone’s so surprised when you make a save.”

Weasley looked impressed.

“Your hair is really nice, and you always take care of it, unlike some of the blokes in school. Well, with the exception of fourth year.” Blaise ventured.

Weasley shook his head. “Don’t mention fourth year.”

“You’re a really good friend. Uh… when you and Granger broke up the whole school was talking about it, and you stuck together as her friend, and didn’t talk behind her back.”

Ron’s eyes softened. That had been a difficult time, especially since everything they did was so public. When they’d broken up, the prophet had run a front page story. It would have been easier to behave badly, especially since in the end, they only talked to fight.

“And you’ve always… been friends with each other, even when you weren’t. I admire that about you.” Blaise looked away.

“Are you usually not friends with your friends in that way?” Weasley questioned.

“It’s not… I don’t know what kind of friend I am. I’m not complimenting you very well am I?” Blaise wasn’t used to being unsure of someone. Maybe it was because he knew that he was going to be judged harshly for whatever he said.

“No, you’re doing fine.” Weasley replied obliquely.

“I guess I wish I had the courage to be that kind of friend. It’s not a very slytherin thing to say, though.” Blaise shook his head, knowing he was getting something wrong.

“Thank you.” Ron answered.

“You… uh, I guess you have very nice eye-”

Weasley’s lips fell over his with a sureness that was shocking. Blaise froze, caught against the doorway with Weasley’s arm snaking around his neck. Weasley’s lips were soft and full, and gently pressing.

Ron had done it on a whim, knowing he wouldn’t have the balls to complete the dare if he’d had to preamble and explain himself. The slytherin smelled like spicy cologne and oranges, and Ron was filled with a strange longing as he inhaled the scent. He wrapped his arms around the slightly smaller man, hands climbing up his muscular back. And it was good that he did, because when Blaise parted his lips and moaned into Ron’s mouth, he felt as if the ground had fallen out beneath them.

\---

“Do you mind if we go into your room, Hermione?” Ginny asked quietly.

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up, “Sure.”

Ginny waved her hands in the air, “No, not for anything like that, just some privacy.”

“Sure, I mean, of course.” The brunette answered.

Ginny walked into Hermione’s room without looking back to see if Harry was following her. Her stomach was a riot of butterflies, and she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans in a manner that she hoped seemed unconcerned. She’d spent the whole year hoping that Harry would talk to her about whether they could be together for real… and had spent the whole year being disappointed. It seemed Harry had no intention of asking her on a real date, yet he didn’t seem to be dating anyone else. Now a golden opportunity to talk it all through had dropped in her lap.

And Ginny was terrified.

At least in limbo she could pretend that Harry had been interested in her, even if it was only a year ago. But what if all that avoidance had been his great big hint to leave him alone. Ginny wasn’t sure if she was ready to find out.

Harry closed the door behind them as Ginny went to sit on the Head Girl’s bed. The room was dominated by a large white four poster bed, hung with gauzy burgundy curtains. Above them was a mural of the night sky, enchanted to be twinkling and serene. He turned and looked at Ginny, lounging in a white sweater that brought out the vibrant color of her hair, and swallowed.

“So I’m supposed to uh… give you a backrub?” Harry tried to keep his voice steady and relaxed, but it cracked on the last word. Was it too much to ask that he could get through this game with a little dignity?

Ginny just swept all her hair to one side and turned her back to him. Slowly, he crossed the room and sat on the bed behind her.

“Uh, and you?” He asked.

“I’m supposed to describe a sexual fantasy I’ve had about you, or make one up.” She replied, as cool as ever. Harry felt like he was going to faint.

“Oh.” He replied.

“Just my luck to get a boring card.” She smiled awkwardly at him, turning her neck to meet his eye.

He looked away. “Better that than a more daring one.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah.” She answered.

He’d said something stupid and he knew it, though he wasn’t sure why. Wouldn’t it be worse to have to get sexual if they didn’t know where they stood? Unless Ginny knew exactly where they stood. In which case, he hoped that she would give him a clue. But instead of asking, he just put his hands on her neck and started rubbing. Her freckles stood in sharp relief to her creamy white skin. Harry looked away almost as soon as he could, concentrating on the bedspread. Was her skin always this soft?

“So… a fantasy… hmm…” She skipped right over the awkward pause, as he moved his hands to her shoulders. He’d never really given a backrub before, hopefully it was a difficult thing to screw up.

“So… It’s the middle of the night, and you and I are sleeping in bed together.” She began.

“In your bed or mine?” He asked.

“Doesn’t matter… mine, I guess, I don’t know what your bed looks like.” She sounded almost irritated at his interruption, but then she continued. “And I wake up when you put your arm around me. It’s pitch black, because the curtains are drawn. You pull me closer in your sleep. Maybe outside it’s raining, but inside it’s warm… uh, with you.”

Harry tried to concentrate on breathing in and out, and rubbing her back slowly. She ran a hand through her long red hair and kept it there, twirling nervously.

“I turn and… I don’t know, I guess I kiss you? Which wakes you up.” She continued.

“That would wake me up.” Harry could have kicked himself for interrupting.

She laughed. “Yeah, it does. And it’s so dark, but you’re easy to find. And it’s a deep kiss the first time. Not gentle. You… I run my hands through your hair and you get… um, you pull me so I’m under you, so when you kiss me you’re pressing me into the mattress, biting my lip and....”

Harry breathed out, running a hand up and down her back.

“You… you kiss my neck and down… down, um, my body?” Her hand twitched in her hair. He wished, not for the first time, that he could see her face. Was she awkward because she hated the idea? Or because she liked it?

“Am I going where I think I’m going?” He asked.

“You’re going exactly where I want you to.” She replied.

That was about when Harry noticed he was developing an embarrassingly huge erection. On second thought, he was glad she was turned away.

“You sort of… Press me down into the bed. With your hands, so I’m right where you want me, because I want to squirm. But…” She paused.

“Why do you want to squirm?” He asked.

“I… because… I want to squirm because your breath is hot, and my whole body is cold without you.” Harry couldn’t read her tone. Was she uncomfortable? Aroused? Hungry? Bored?

“Are you naked, Ginny?” The words fell out of his mouth in a low voice he didn’t know he possessed.

“Yes.” She answered.

“Were you naked all night in bed with me?”

Ginny was glad she was turned away from him, because her cheeks were redder than the burgundy bedspread. She had nearly melted right into him. Before she stopped herself His hands stayed perfectly innocent, kneading the muscles of her upper back but his voice… there wasn’t really anything innocent about Harry’s voice.

“You’re naked too.” She answered.

“What were we doing all night?” He asked.

She swallowed, gathering courage. “You were… I mean, we fucked. All night.”

“And this is round two? Or round seven?” He replied playfully.

“Seven. Or nine.” Or nine million, she added wistfully in her head.

They’d never gotten so far. A few kisses here or there. But he’d not been ready, and there was too much going on, it hadn’t seemed right to go that far. And then he’d come back… and done nothing. Not even a “Hey Gin, remember how we used to almost maybe have something going?” By this time it had seemed too late. Maybe the game would change that.

He ignored that part, his breath tickling her neck slightly. “What then?”

“You kiss me. Again and again, holding me down.” She said softly. “Until I’m trembling.”

His hand tightened on her neck and she yelped slightly.

He let go immediately. “Sorry, sorry.” His hand was stronger than he thought. Instantly, her mind began to speculate.

She turned to meet his eyes and had to look away. He was so good looking. She looked up at the ceiling, concentrating on a shooting star.

Be brave, she thought to herself, taking a deep breath. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll just stick to this.” He ran his blunt nails up and down her back, sending a shiver down her spine.

“That’s fine… where was I?” She asked.

“I was licking your clit.” He replied matter-of-factly.

Ginny rolled her eyes to the shooting star. Let me get through this moment without combusting, she thought.

“Right… er, so you wait until I’m trembling.” She continued.

“Why wait? I want you to come now.”

She almost did. Sure he could see the blush on her face, she turned and met his eye again. Was he into this just because he was a bloke, or because he really…? Then again had he ever really, even when he had all year… that half finished thought hit her like a bucket of cold water.

A whole year of her waiting around hoping he would try to talk to her… and nothing had happened. She was a fool if she thought a game would change that.

“And then I do… um, that’s the fantasy!” She announced, turning away again.

“That’s it?” He asked.

She lept off the bed. “Yeah. We’re taking too long, everyone else is probably finished.”

She stood abruptly, and he moved away, confused, noticing for the first time the music coming from the common room. Odd, that.

\---

Hermione watched George hold the door to Malfoy’s room open for Parkinson, who stomped through it with a huff. She watched them for as long as she could to avoid looking at Malfoy’s smug face.

He lounged on the floor across from her. “Alone at last, Granger. I know you’ve been counting the seconds.

George gave her a last sympathetic glance before Parkinson slammed the door. Hermione shuddered as the lock turned in the door. She hoped Ginny and Harry were talking for once. She hoped Ron was ok left alone with Zabini.

“As a prisoner counts the seconds towards execution.” She replied, knowing she sounded snotty and not caring. “What’s your dare?”

“Now, Granger, don’t rush me. Seduction is a twelve course meal, not a snack.” He lay back on his hands as if he had all the time in the world, tossing his head so that his hair fell rakishly over one eye.

“Is that the line you used on the Ravenclaw from yesterday?” She copied his pose with a sarcastic grin.

“She was more of an after dinner mint.” He replied.

“You’re disgusting. How would she feel, if she heard you say that?” Hermione scowled.

“I imagine not too bad, as she’s with her boyfriend tonight.” He smiled, the picture of nonchalance.

“And just when I think you couldn’t be worse…” Hermione rolled her eyes.

He laughed. “So your opinion of me can sink lower. Who knew?”

“Some poor guy is out there thinking his girlfriend is being faithful…” She began to lecture.

“So?” Malfoy shrugged.

“So you’re hurting him!” Hermione sat up, itching to smack him.

Malfoy toe-d her shoe with his sock. “Granger it’s a school romance. Everyone knows they might not last. Even Potter couldn’t keep it together with the Weaslette, despite all their true-love purity. If some girl wants to play bad for a while, a few kisses to make her appreciate what she has, then let her get it out of her system now before it’s really serious.”

She moved her feet away. “Plenty of people stay together after school.”

“The rare exceptions maybe. People who were really meant to be. But probably you grow up, meet new people, and find someone out in the real world.” He replied.

Hermione shook her head. “You… you’re getting me all unfocused. We’re meant to be doing the dares. And unless yours is to be an annoying prat, I say we get on with it.”  
He sighed dramatically. “Fine. You first.”

“No! You first.” She shook her head, knowing that she was probably blushing because she was soon about to be necking with Draco Malfoy, and ignoring it. She stood, motioning that he should too. The floor was too… intimate. Too much like lying down together, which was too much like a bed, which was too much like… she didn’t even want to imagine.

“Why should I go first? I want to take my sweet time. Really savor your anger at having been beaten at my game.” He looked up at her, his eyes burning a line down her body. She fought the urge to turn away, instead putting her hands on her hips in a way she desperately hoped seemed brave.

“Whether you beat me or not remains to be seen, Malfoy.” She stared back at him.

He stood slowly, and much too close, his eyes locking with hers. Neither of them would back down, and she knew it. Hermione wanted to run into her room and hide. She wanted to push him back down. She wanted to withdraw her application at magical law enforcement.

But all that would be cowardice. So she stayed, staring him down, even when he shocked her by grabbing her hand.

She snatched it back. “What are you doing?”

He blinked and the room was filled with a slow jazz song she’d never heard before. “I’m going to dance with you. It’s my dare.”

“You aren’t going to ask?”

“Granger, really, I’m hardly asking you to take off your knickers and bend over, am I?” He shook his head. “Couldn’t you have just extrapolated from the situation that I was attempting to do my dare?”

Hermione refused to be embarrassed. Of course, the only reason he would come onto her would be to piss her off. The game was just a part of that. He wasn’t attracted to her.

Hermione told herself that that was comforting. That she didn’t want him to be attracted to her.

“Ask anyway.” She said firmly. He took her hand again, and his other hand made it’s way to her waist.

“Can we get on with my bloody dare?” He asked, looking down at her. Hermione rolled her eyes, but nodded, laying her free hand lightly on his shoulder. She couldn’t read his expression as they began to step to the music. Hermione wasn’t the best dancer, and he clearly knew what he was doing. But he seemed content with a gentle sway.  
Hermione closed her eyes. She didn’t… in any little way at all want him to be attracted to her, right?

Then again, she reasoned with herself, it was okay to want to be attractive, even if in this particular situation the boy was an enormous prat. He was just a stand-in for her insecurities, and she wouldn’t let him beat her.

“What’s the matter, Granger, scared to enjoy it?” He gently pulled her closer, her body nearly colliding with his. The heat radiating from him didn’t do anything to help the situation. A wave of sensation went through her body, but not the anger or fear she was expecting.

“I won’t.” She replied stubbornly.

He leaned in, his lips just above her ear. “I know that’s what you said. But I want you to enjoy it.”

She let that one sit for a second, swaying with him. “Why?”

“ Why wouldn’t I?” He began to lead her into a circle. “I win if you do, don’t I?”

Her eyes narrowed and she looked up at him. “I suppose.”

“So how do you feel about dancing with me?” Draco spun her quickly, just to have the sensation of her clinging to him tightly.

Her eyes flashed annoyance. “I hate it.”

Draco noticed his heart was pounding. Her hand was resting on his shoulder, pressing against him insistently, and his breath caught when, in contrary to her words, it clung a little to his collar, holding him close. “So brave, Granger.”

She raised her chin and glanced up at him again. “Am I ever anything but?”

He shrugged. “Is it bravery? Or pride?”

“Excuse me?” Hermione furrowed her brow.

“Do you resist me because you’re being brave? Or are you too proud to admit that I intrigue you?” He was showing his cards a little, but he would have to sometime. Playing games was fun for a while, but it certainly didn’t satisfy. Her hand settled back into indifferently lying on his shoulder, but her other hand tightened around his.  
Despite that, she didn’t respond scornfully, as he’d expected. “Well that depends on your intentions, doesn’t it? If you’re planning on humiliating me, I’d rather resist you.”

Draco had to take his shot. Leaning in, he nearly rested his forehead on hers, grey eyes boring into chocolatey brown. “What I’m planning… First of all, I’d take off those hideous sweatpants, and then I’d show you just how boring resisting me will be. It’s just a game, Granger. Swallow your pride and I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

Her face was impossible to read. She stayed with him, swaying, just looking for a long moment before she looked away from him, seemingly embarrassed. If she’d bothered to look down, she might have noticed his growing erection, but she seemed fixated on a thought, turning it over in her head.

“Did I offend you?” He asked.

“No, it’s just funny. You all dressed up and me in my sweats.” She replied, her cheeks burning. She didn’t know what to make of his proposition, or this whole night for that matter. Maybe somebody’d drugged Malfoy’s pumpkin juice this morning, because he didn’t seem to realize that it sounded like he was sincerely propositioning a muggle born witch. She decided to just change the subject, move up to safer ground.

He blinked, and her pants and tank top changed into a simple sleeveless black dress. It hugged her curves like a glove, but it was high necked and long enough to be modest, even chic. He’d turned her sneakers into black flats. She felt a little like Audrey Hepburn.

“You’re very adept at wandless magic.” She commented, hoping to bypass a thank you.

“I am.” He accepted with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. “Could you be more conceited?”

Draco’s lip twitched. He knew he’d made the right choice waiting until Granger came home, rather than trying to find another game partner. Granger was a challenge, a real challenge, rather than some girl that just wanted to play hard to get with the aim of snaring him, or worse, his family’s ill-gotten fortune.

“I think I could be more conceited, if some ungrateful witch were to thank me,” He countered.

Hermione sniffed. “You said I looked a mess, and just wanted to make me look presentable.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Granger. I just don’t like Weasley’s sweatpants. Trust me, the way I want you to look is miles short of presentable.” The insinuation was heavy in his voice, and the scent of his woodsy cologne swirled around her, as he led her around the room.

Hermione blushed, helpless to the confusion of it all. This must be some other game on top of the cards. Once she gave an inch, he would take a mile, and parade her humiliation in front of everyone if she ever let herself be attracted to him.

She decided not to play his game.

“I feel like Cinderella.” She said by way of reply, hoping to stay on the neutral topic of the dress.

“Who?”

“It’s a muggle fairy tale. A young woman is left in the care of her stepmother, who abuses her and treats her like a slave. Her stepmother and stepsisters call her Cinderella because she’s always dirty from cleaning the fireplace and working in the kitchen. Then one day, the king announces that they’re holding a ball for all the women in the country, in order to find a wife for the prince among the noble women-”

“The prince wants a wife that’s just a citizen?” He interrupted, holding her closer still.

“He’s a very unprejudiced prince. A noble woman will do.” Hermione answered archly. “So Cinderella begs her stepmother that she might go. But the stepmother and stepsisters mock her, saying maids aren’t invited to the ball. When they leave, however, her fairy godmother appears and magically transforms her into the well dressed noble woman she really is: beautiful dress, a carriage, and glass dancing slippers, all she needs. But the magic only lasts until midnight, when Cinderella has to return to her life.”

Draco subtly changed the song to something slower, more sultry, listening to her quiet voice lull him into calmness. They swayed, and she rested in his arms so lightly, at every moment he thought she was about to pull away. Except her hand clung to his collar, and she glanced up at him every now and again, her face for once not scornful. Honestly, she made his knees weak.

She continued. “But Cinderella is still excited, and she attends the ball, where everyone fawns over her grace and good manners. The prince falls madly in love with her and they dance all night, and when she tries to leave at midnight, he pursues her, and she loses one of her glass slippers. Unable to follow her- I guess servant girls can run much faster than lazy princes-”

Malfoy laughed low in his throat, and then Hermione noticed that they were closer, in fact if they hadn’t been facing each other , it would have been natural for her to rest her cheek on his shoulder. The impulse was almost impossible to resist, but that would mean defeat. Why did she want to do that? He was terrifyingly close.

“Uh…” She faltered.

“I’m listening.” He replied, his face shrouded in shadows. Why was he allowing this? Didn’t he just want her on her back?

“So… so the prince takes the glass slipper and declares that he’ll only marry the girl whose foot fits this slipper. He travels the whole land looking for her, but no one else fits the slipper.”

“She must have had extraordinary feet.” He interjected.

“They were small, I think. The stepsisters hear and invite the prince to their house. The oldest cuts off her toes, but her foot still won’t fit. The younger one cuts her heel, but it still won’t fit. Finally Cinderella comes forward. They laugh at her, but the prince allows her to try. Hopefully they had the blood washed out. It fits, obviously. So then they marry, of course, and live happily ever after.” Hermione looked up, and felt somehow exposed under his gaze. She nearly pulled away but he held her by the waist.

“So who am I in this scenario?” His eyes were heavy and entrancing, but his tone was light and easy.

“What?” She asked, her eyes looking up at him with confusion. He used the distraction to pull her slightly closer, so that their chests brushed. Not too close, however. He was afraid if she realized he was hard, she would end the spell between them for good.

“Am I the fairy, because I gave you the dress? Or the prince?”

She snorted incredulously. “Way to flatter yourself. This is nothing like the story really. I just meant the dress is magic.”

“I think it’s more like the story than you think.” He replied.

“Why do you say that?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t have a glass slipper to offer you, but what I’m offering… I guarantee it’s a perfect fit.” He whispered into her ear.

She laughed, just the first moment before she caught herself, and he smiled back. 

“I don’t know, it might be too small.” She arched an eyebrow.

Draco made a split second decision. He would likely regret it later, but faint heart never won fair lady. He pulled her tight up to him and she gasped as their bodies collided… when her body collided with one part in particular. “Too small?” He asked.

“No, I don’t think so.” Hermione blurted out.

Merlin, she was soft. He held her close, waiting for a resistance that never came.

“What’s your dare?” His voice vibrated through her, and Hermione breathed out one long breath. Hermione, pull it together, she told herself, he is revolting.

Only he didn’t feel so revolting. His body was one long plane of muscled man, and his arms, under her clinging hand, was thicker, and stronger than she’d thought. He laced their hands together and she did nothing to stop him.

“Um…” She had forgotten his question.

His golden brow raised, amused. “Tongue-tied, Granger?”

She shook her head.

“So what does your card say you have to do to me?” He asked again.

“I have to give you a mark, on your neck, for everyone to see.” She squeaked when he ground into her a little, holding her against him by the small of her back.

“That’s more interesting than dancing.” He commented, keeping his voice as light and teasing as he could. Merlin, he should have given her a looser dress. Or baggy old woman’s robes. He could feel every inch of her and it was torturous. Draco trailed his hand up and down her back, feeling the curves and dips of her body. In his arms, she shivered, and blushed.

He backed up one step into a waiting couch, and pulled her down with him, so that she lay on top of him. She blinked down at him, confounded.

“Did you plan that so that you could get me lying down?” She said suspiciously.

“Happy accident.” He replied, his hand running along her back again. “What are you waiting for, Granger?”

Their eyes locked for one long, electric moment. Hermione could hear her heart beating in her ears, as loud as waves crashing on shore.

“So I guess I just… suck your neck?”

He laughed. “Have you never done this before?”

“No. I’ve always thought it was kind of tacky.” Was her voice breathless? Hermione couldn’t tell.

“It is, but that’s kind of the fun of it.” He replied, his voice a low rumble that went through her whole body and straight between her legs. Hermione stiffened.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She said quickly, shifting so that she could lie on him more comfortably, though that only succeeded in pressing his erection against her more firmly. Heat washed over her body. He is revolting, she told herself. She leaned down, but hesitated at his neck.

Draco took in a deep breath through his nostrils. Salazar’s serpent, she smelled heavenly. She waited at his neck, not moving.

“Taking a nap, Granger?” He asked.

“No, I just…”

“Do you not know where to start?” He prompted.

“No.” She hissed. “I understand the mechanics.”

“Oh do you now? Because it usually starts with a kiss, not straight for the jugular. Seems terribly awkward that way.” He replied, amused.

“I’m not going to kiss you, Malfoy?” She leaned back up and scowled.

“Oh I see, you want to prolong the game? Because if I’m correct, the others won’t be able to join us until the task is complete.” He smiled slyly. “I guess being in my arms for hours was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

He had her between a rock and a hard… Hermione bit her lip. His eyes darkened, transfixed on her teeth kneading her lower lip.

Hermione steeled herself. “Alright, I’ll kiss you for a bit. But no funny buisness.”

“You mean like this?” Draco asked innocently, running a hand down to cup her perky little arse.

She squeaked and hit his shoulder with the palm of her hand. “Yes. None of that.”

Her bottom was released, and he held his hands up in mock surrender. “Ok, my love, it’s your dare.”

Hermione took a deep breath in, curling her hands into the chest of his crisp white shirt. Underneath, heat radiated towards her like hot coals in a fire. She lowered her head closer until their noses almost touched, gazes locked.

He breathed out, the moisture branding her lips with warmth. Bewildered, she made a tiny sound, like a moan caught at the back of her throat.

He groaned. “Grang-”

Hermione would never be able to compare anything adequately to that of having Draco Malfoy, turned on and helpless, underneath her. She could do it for hours, days, and never tire of the task. She pressed him into the pillows like she wanted to smother him, her fingers pulling him closer, and closer. 

At first, his lips were frozen in shock under hers, but when he kissed back, Merlin help her, he kissed back. His lips nudged and pressed, his tongue plyed its way into her mouth. He played with her, his tongue teasing and massaging hers, sending tremors of sensation through her body.

His hands fell on her, one on her back, pulling her closer, the other cupping her cheek. She took a cue and her hands slid up to his face, raspy with a hint of stubble. He rewarded her with a noise of pure pleasure, and pulled her lower lip into his mouth, sucking and biting gently.

Draco broke the kiss, pressing his lips along her jaw, cheeks, anywhere he could get to. He’d forgotten the dare, the game, the situation, who he was, everything. This feeling was unexpected, to say the least. He’d expected passion, no question about it, but she had put a spell on him, and he was in a frenzy like no other. Her lips parted when he kissed her ear, and she sighed, sending a thrill through him.

He captured her mouth again, nibbling her lower lip again before sweeping his tongue into her mouth for another taste.

She pulled back gasping, and he stayed with her, breathing together. Draco kissed her jaw, moving her head to one side to encourage her to complete her dare. He wouldn’t push her too far this early. He had to wait and see if she would really come to him of her own accord.

But Merlin’s Beard, she was making it hard. Her little moans as he kissed her were making him weak.

Luckily, she took the initiative. Her lips trailed along his jaw, her breath still shallow and whispery, like music to his ears. She traced the line from his jaw to his ear, pausing to lick his earlobe gently, which elicited a whole-body shiver of pleasure. 

She gave his neck a light kiss first, and then hesitated. Draco murmured to her, encouragingly, running his hands up and down her back. She sighed, pressing against his body more fully, her knees falling open so that she straddled his left thigh. Steady on, Draco told himself, when she finally latched onto his neck and began to gently suck.

Hermione felt as though in a fever. Everything she did was her, but it was happening too much, too fast, too brightly for it to be her. She couldn’t be on top of Draco Malfoy, mouth swollen from her kisses. That… couldn’t be possible and yet here she was. He moaned and she felt…

She broke away, startled at her own train of thoughts, and sat up abruptly. He made a weak sound of protest and then looked up at her.

Oh God, he was attractive, wasn’t he? Everyone in school knew it, and he was the subject of many giggling conjectures in the dorms late at night but if they could see him now? His hair was dishevelled and his eyes dark and wild and angry. Hermione felt like she’d woken the dragon. On his neck was a newly minted dark red splotch, glistening slightly from her…

“What am I doing?” She scrambled off him, pulling her dress down.

“You don’t know? For someone so smart, you’d think you could pick up some context clues.” He sat up, reaching one lazy hand to her cheek. She slapped him away.

“Well I think the dare is complete.” She tried to steady her breathless voice.

“You definitely satisfied the requirements.” He replied appreciatively.

She raised her chin. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Ideas of what, Granger?” He sat up, smoothing the wrinkles she had made in his shirt.

Hermione’s cheeks blazed red. Why had she said that? It was a sex game, for god’s sake, and he was just playing along. As was she.

It was just the excitement of kissing someone new and dangerous. She would have had the same sort of reaction to kissing anyone who she wasn’t comfortable with. It was likely just fear and nerves making her lose her head.

“Ideas that I in any way enjoyed that.” She sniffed. “It was disgusting.”

His face turned from a small smile into an annoyed grimace. “Not even a little bit of enjoyment, Granger?”

She looked away from his seeking eyes, smoothing her hands over her wrinkled skirt. She was about to respond then a man’s muffled groan broke their brief silence.

“Don’t stop that!”

Hermione turned to Malfoy instinctively, her ears going slightly pink with embarrassment.

Malfoy turned towards his bedroom door and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Oh. I forgot about them.”

\---

“Alright. Let’s get this over with.” Pansy slammed Draco’s door soundly and locked it. Stupid fucking game. She would quit, but she wasn’t sure she could stand the ridicule if she did. Bloody gryffindors would crucify themselves in the name of bravery.  


_“The look of love_

__

__

_Is in your eyes_

_A look your smile can't disguise...”_

Pansy turned on him. “Excuse me?” But he continued singing, in a clear, soft baritone.

_“The look of love_

__

__

_Is saying so much more than_

_Just words could every say_ /p>

_And what my heart has heard_

_Well it takes my breath away…”_

“Quit it.” Pansy hissed like a viper.

“It’s my bloody dare, innit, Parkinson? Don’t rush me, you’ll be sucking me off soon enough.” He continued.

_“I can hardly wait to hold you_

__

_Feel my arms around you_

_How long I have waited_

_Waited just to love you_

_Now that I have found you...”_

She stalked over to him and hissed. “Could you please let me maintain a little dignity.”

He raised an eyebrow challengingly.

_“You've got the look of love_

__

__

_It's on your face_

_A look that time can't erase...”_

“Stop singing that!”

“Fine, I guess that's enough.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Good. My ears couldn’t have stood it much longer.”

“Someone got your knickers in a knot, Parkinson? There’s a cure for that you know?” His grin was goofy, but his words had a dark undercurrent to them.

“Oh I wonder what I could be so mad about? Maybe that I have the world's twittingest twit as a partner in a sex game.” She growled.

“Maybe if you weren’t so judgemental about it, it might be fun.” He snapped back. “You all were the ones wanted to play.”

She sniffed. “I didn’t want to play with you.”

“Why? Intimidated by my good looks? They’re practically veela-like.” He crowed.

“Yeah, just what attracts me most. Ginger Blood Traitors make me so hot.” She snorted.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Not as if I was gagging to make it with stuck-up Slytherins who think Blood Traitor is still an insult.”

“The intention was there, believe me.” She asserted.

He raised an eyebrow archly, and his eyes slipped over her body like hot butter on toast. “If it was, I doubt you would have made it through your war hearing. Why so testy, Parkinson? Were you hoping to get the testes of another, perhaps?”

Pansy’s ears burned. “Shut your mouth, Weasley.”

“Shut it for me.” He issued the challenge.

She scoffed. “Like you could even get it up for me.”

“And that would be a problem how?” He mocked her with a silly high voice. Pansy seethed up at him.

“Well I hate all Weasleys, and I don’t see why the feeling wouldn’t be mutual.” She ground out through parsed teeth.

His eyes glittered with humor, and he tossed a lock of long auburn hair out of his face. “That doesn’t exactly mean I can’t get it up.”

Pansy wrinkled her nose. “Disgusting!”

“A bloke would have to be under the imperius not to notice you.” He said simply. “I promise, I’ll be more than fine.”

“Excuse me?” Pansy replied coldly.

“I reckon you rank as one of the sexiest witches in your year.” He replied, without hesitation or even any special tone. It was as if a fact, as easy to him as saying Dumbledore had a rather long beard.

“That is the strangest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She gaped openly, not caring if it made her look less attractive than he said. Because she wasn’t attractive, so it didn’t matter, did it.

“Nonsense, I say strange things all the time.” He replied snappily. “You just haven’t noticed, Parkinson.”

“Exactly. You talk as though you fell off a broom fifty feet up and landed right on your head.” She sniffed. “Why compliment me? What do you want?”

He grinned, leaning in close to her face so she had to take a step back. His breath smelled like mint and sugar and…

Pansy narrowed her eyes, repeating herself. “What do you want from me, that you’re saying that?

“By telling you you’re objectively attractive? I’m trying to avoid a hexing.” He drawled.

“So you don’t think I’m attractive, you’re just afraid of me.” Pansy knew she should be proud that he had all but admitted he was afraid of her, but she felt a little deflated. Of course he didn’t find her attractive.

“I’m not afraid of you, and I do think you’re attractive. Objectively.” He qualified.

“I don’t believe you.” She snapped. “You want something, or you wouldn’t say that.”

“I want you to shut your mouth and do your dare. Or, open your mouth, rather.” He supplied bluntly.

That shut her up. George watched with satisfaction, as she worked her mouth open and close in shock. She seemed hellbent on not believing him, but she was pretty, anyone could see that. She had the pale, perfect porcelain skin, little rosebud lips, and large, round eyes of a cherub, and her little upturned nose only added to the effect. That face on a lovely, round woman’s body… an irresistible dichotomy.

He continued, for the benefit of keeping her stunned. “I want you to put those lips around my cock because that would be bloody fucking hot. And I want to watch you suck me off until I come into your mouth. I want you to watch me watching you.”

“You’d like someone who hated you to… to…” Her voice was weak.

“Don’t bother much with the psychology of it.” He replied snarkily.

“Psyto… what?” She furrowed her brow.

He waved her off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re disgusting!” She refuted.

“So you’re going to go out there and tell your boyfriends you couldn’t go through with it?” He took another step closer, a soft hazelnut smell taking over her senses.

Pansy hesitated. If she called off the game, she’d get teased mercilessly. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was the only one with a bad partner. Blaise had probably gotten the worst deal, and she didn’t hear him crying wolf. Potter and the Weasley girl were likely the only ones having a good time. It was the game she had signed up for, so what was her problem?

Pansy raised her chin defiantly. “No way.”

Without a moment's pause, she laid her hands on the waistband of his pants, beginning to undo his belt.

He jumped. “Steady on!”

“What?” She put a hand on her waist. “It’s my dare.”

“Come on now, I deserve a little foreplay.” He teased.

She cocked her head to the side. “Oh I see. You really can’t get it up.”

He stepped towards her, leaning down so they were almost nose to nose. “Oh, I can get it up.”

“Prove it.” She spat the words out hard.

“Do it right.” He replied, a twinkle in his eye.

“I don’t know what you me-”

He sealed his lips over hers with a groan, his arms coming around her body slowly. It was not a polite kiss, like a first kiss should be. He kissed her like they’d already kissed a thousand times, and yet his enthusiasm had not dimmed for kiss one thousand and one. His mouth was hot and demanding, his tongue just dancing on the edge of her lips and she sighed.

He groaned in response, his tongue meeting hers urgently. George felt like it was going in slow motion. She wrapped her hands around his shoulders and he could feel her touch like a branding iron through his t-shirt. Gasping, he pulled back from her hungry lips, running kisses along her jaw like they had only a few seconds to spare before Filch came around the corner. This girl tasted like naughtiness, like breaking the rules.

And George Weasley could never resist breaking the rules.

He nipped her neck and sighed into her ear, and Pansy almost fell into a heap on the floor.

“Do you want to do it?” At first she barely registered his words, because she was so enjoying the sound of his voice echoing through her body. Her hands clung to his shoulders helplessly, as he plastered his long, lean body against hers.

“What?” She replied in a daze.

“Do you want to suck my cock, Parkinson?” His voice was playful, mirthful or scornful, she couldn’t tell which. Either one was kind of hot.

“Yes, I do.” She sighed, trying to angle for more kisses. His hand rubbed her waist teasingly, but the other came up to pull her face up so that she looked at him.

“Because you don’t have to, if you don’t actually want to.” She was not used to hearing a serious tone from him.

Come to think of it, she was not used to hearing those words from any of the boys she’d fooled around with (though it was a short list). Not that she’d ever felt forced, but… no one had given her an out, not when she’d been grinding against them, as she had just a moment ago.

“I do want to.” She said breathlessly.

He grinned. “I knew you did.”

“Shut up.” Pansy replied, kissing him hard.

She trailed her hands from his shoulders to his chest, nudging him away just enough so that she had room to fumble with his belt. She slid down the zipper of his jeans and… no underwear. Cheeky bastard.

She pushed his pants down just enough to grab him in a firm grip. Into the kiss, he shivered, both his hands coming up to frame her face. She stroked, and he shivered again. Merlin, but he was large. Not scarily so, just larger than she’d anticipated. She stroked again, harder, and chuckled darkly at his predictable shivver.

George pulled her closer, trapping her hand between them, and breaking the kiss. “Told you I could get it up.”

Pansy smirked. “Is this really the time?”

“Every time is the right time to point out that I’m right.” He gazed down at her, his mocking expression replaced with pure pleasure when she stroked again.

Pansy didn’t want to waste more time. She dropped to her knees and, looking up at him, licked his cock with one long stroke of her tongue.

His abs spasmed, and he muttered something under his breath.

She set a pace, using the suction of her mouth to make him writhe and gasp. His hands tangled in her hair, but he was never rough or insistent. He was at her mercy, and Pansy found she quite enjoyed that feeling.

Pansy took him in her mouth, rolling her tongue around the tip and stroking in steady rhythm with her hand.

He shook, and bit out a loud moan. “Don’t stop that.”

She didn’t, and in short order, watched his mouth fall open and a look of peace fall over his features before he came into her mouth. Pansy felt the warmth pass over her tongue before she swallowed on instinct, belatedly cursing herself for doing so.

Stupid Weasley.


	3. On this couch, on this rug, under your blouse, with a mug.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Snow what?”  
> “Snow White. It’s another fairy tale. You know, because we were talking about Cinderella earlier?” Hermione knew logically that she hadn’t said anything wrong, but she still felt foolish, somehow.  
> “Granger, let's assume from now on that if it’s a muggle fairy tale, I haven’t heard it.” He cracked a smile for the first time since they’d come into the kitchens, her heart skipping a little when his eyes crinkled at the corners.  
> “I’m sure you don’t want to hear it.” She frowned.  
> He began to slice into the apple with a knife Dobby had provided. “And just feed you in silence, running my fingers over your lips, drinking in the passion in your lusty eyes-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JK Rowling she's the man  
> if she won't sue me, no one can
> 
> Also please give me ideas for dares ppl, there is a surprisingly limited amount of things two people can do

Ginny glanced around the room, taking it all in. Ron and Blaise couldn’t meet anyone’s eye. George seemed to be in a daze, looking at Parkinson like she’d sprouted a second set of breasts. Parkinson was glaring at Malfoy. Malfoy was looking at Hermione, who was staring at the floor as though the NEWT exam answers were hidden in the carpet.

And Harry seemed oblivious to it all, lost in thought. As to be expected.

“If you’ll just redraw a second card, everyone?” Blaise handed out the new cards, barely taking his eyes from the deck. Pansy and the Weasley twin had certainly been hot and heavy, but it was the door to the kitchen that they’d had to knock on. He and Weasley had snogged for a full twenty minutes, barely coming up for air.

Though Blaise was sure everyone had their minds on themselves, he knew his ears were still likely pink.

Hermione picked at her old sweatpants nervously. She’d scared herself, acting the way she had. Maybe it was the magic in the game, perhaps the cards lowered inhibitions or created a friendlier atmosphere than was necessary.

“Do you know what the enchantment is on the cards?” She asked, keeping her tone most carefully academic.

Blaise handed the last card over to Draco, his brown eyes darting over to Ron before he met Hermione’s curious stare. “It’s somewhat like a shuffling charm. I assume whoever created the deck put in what dares they thought would be the most interesting. And then once we all took the first card it shuffled our names.”

“Is there any penalty if you don’t do a task?” She asked.

“I think, unless you choose to finish the game, it’s not as if anything bad happens. It gives your partner a harder task, perhaps, or something else to keep the game going.” Blaise shrugged.

Hermione’s second card shimmered green and magenta in her hand before words began to form.

“Were you not able to do yours, ‘Mione?” Ron raised an eyebrow.

“Not that I blame you.” Ginny gave Malfoy a withering stare.

“Oh no, she did it alright.” Malfoy seemed to be the only person in the room not going through a personal crisis. He leaned against the couch with a saucy grin as he showed off the new mark on his neck with a tapping finger.

“I think I may be sick.” Harry said in a low voice.

“Well if you get sick, don’t use my bathroom, Potter.” Malfoy replied, his eyes never leaving Hermione, who seemed to have a sudden fascination with the pattern in the ancient carpet that covered the icy stone of the castle floor.

“It would be the cleanest person to have used it all year.” Harry shot back.

“Not true. Granger’s had to run in there a time or two.” Malfoy checked his fingernails with an insolent grin on his face, not bothering to grace the boy wonder with his eye contact. “Although she’s definitely a dirtier girl than you think.”

Harry opened his mouth, but Ginny’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Malfoy, I think you’d do better to treat Hermione with respect. And not just in front of us, but when you’re alone.” Ginny said levelly.

“Thank you.” Hermione smiled at her friend.

Draco raised his hands in mock surrender. “I meant no disrespect. The implication was that Granger is knowledgeable about sexual matters. Isn’t it a well known fact that Granger is very knowledgeable?”

“Listen you-” Ron made a move towards the slytherin.

“Enough!” Hermione crossed her arms and frowned at Malfoy. “Why do you have to be such a prat all the time? I thought we were getting along.”

“Getting along doesn’t make your friend’s jokes any funnier.” He said simply.

Blaise and Pansy gave each other a halfhearted shrug.

“Alright, kids, why don’t you hand back your cards so that I can deal again.” Blaise had a condescending tone that could rival Snape’s even on the best of days.

Ginny passed hers and Ron’s, still keeping an eye on her fuming brother. Tonight certainly wasn’t the lighthearted game she had imagined. First Harry was bringing on the dirty talk, and now it seemed Malfoy was starting to become territorial.

Hermione handed hers over and glared at Malfoy, who pretended not to notice her ire.

“Everyone still in for this round?” Pansy asked the room.

“Yes.” Blaise and Ron answered at almost the same time.

George grinned and nodded, turning his head and studying the pair of them.

“I’m in, as long as Granger’s in.” Draco handed his cards over to Blaise with a flourish.

“Yes.” Hermione bit out between her teeth.

Harry shrugged, trying to keep an eye on Ginny’s reaction without looking very carefully.

“Sure, I’m still in.” Ginny kept her eyes (and her mind!) firmly on what seemed to be happening between Hermione and Malfoy. He was holding something over her to get her to play the game, that had to be it.

“What about you, Pans?” Blaise turned away from the enigma that was Weasley and nudged his friend.

“Oh, yeah I’m still in.” Pansy tipped her chin up stubbornly.

“Are you okay?” Blaise asked.

She gave him a raised eyebrow, but answered. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Since when had he cared how she felt? This night could have been a dream, people were acting so strangely.

“Okay, Round two!” Blaise announced, handing out the cards.

Harry took his first card and breathed a little sigh of relief when the silvery lines formed Ginny’s name again. One confusing relationship at a time was about all he could take. People around the room had varying reactions. Hermione was staring at Malfoy mulishly, and he was laying back and smiling like the cat who got the canary. Ron was spinning his card in his hands, as if he was itching for his second one. Parkinson gave an exaggerated sigh, to which George responded with a wink. And the gamemaster Zabini hadn’t even glanced at his card so he could hand out the second round.

Blaise’s warm fingers brushed against Ron’s as he handed over the second card, and a little jolt of anticipation went racing up Ron’s arm. He could feel his ears going red from embarrassment. Was this a reaction of excitement for the game? For the chance to explore that side of his sexuality? Or was it for his partner himself?

Ron wasn’t very good at parsing out his own emotions. As had been pointed out to him many times over the years, he prefered the simple emotions: hunger, confusion, happiness, anger. This game was leaving him more than a little out of his depth. And nothing underscored that quite like the words forming on his second card: “Perform a lap dance on your partner.”

He held his card close to his chest and glanced around the room in a way he hoped might be nonchalant but was probably transparently embarrassed.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her card: “Tell everyone in the group your most embarrassing sex story.” Anything that kept her a good three feet or more from Malfoy was an excellent task.

George choked on a laugh when he saw his own card. “We may need to use someone’s room.”

Parkinson raised an eyebrow at him. “I was just about to say the same.” She said.

Draco swiftly grabbed the card out of her hand. “Cuddling?!? Was this deck designed by Madame Pomfrey?”

Pansy snatched the card back. “I take it you have a tame card too.”

“Deathly tame.” He snarled. “Honestly I could think of better dares in my sleep. Did anyone get anything dirty?”

Ron and George nodded, but kept their cards hidden.

“Mine’s pretty dirty.” Ginny volunteered, her cheeks a little pink.

“Alright Weaselette, what do you have to do?” Draco asked with a flirtatious smirk. It was worth it to watch Potter’s face go helpless and angry.

She turned his card so it faced the group. It said ‘Get a spanking from your partner.’

Blaise whistled. “Maybe the game is starting us out slow.”

“I’m not complaining.” Hermione grumbled.

Malfoy smirked at her. “What’s there to complain about? You have the best partner here.”

“Hardly.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Fine, protest all you like. One of these rounds will have to get good. Then you’ll see who the best is.” Malfoy retorted.

Pansy stood abruptly, nodding curtly at the group. “Draco, we’re going to be using your room again.”

“Wait!” Hermione held up her hand. “I have to do my task with everyone here.”

“I also have to do something in front of everyone.” Blaise announced, shooting a glance over to Draco. “Perhaps you can help me, Granger.”

Draco sat up a little straighter, but said nothing. Blaise had said the game was ‘starting slow.’

“What’s your task?” Hermione asked.

“I have to demonstrate a kissing technique for everyone.” He winked at Ron. “My great secret technique.”

Hermione shuffled a little on her feet, but nodded. Malfoy wanted this to be all fun and games, so he could watch her have fun for a change.

Of course it helped that Blaise clearly played for the other team, and so it would just be a kiss for kissing's sake.

“But first, I should do mine.” She stood up, smoothing down the wrinkles in her old sweatpants. “I have to share an embarrassing sex story.”

“Oh, Mione, God.” Ron shook his head.

“Lucky for you, Ron, I have a more embarrassing story than that one.” She said.

“Which one?” George asked with a devilish grin.

“Mum caught us once.” Ron bit out.

Ginny blanched. “Nightmare.”

“It really was.” Ron replied.

“What could be more embarrassing than that?” Ginny asked, still a little grossed out by the idea of her Mother seeing Ron in an… intimate position.

“Well, in fourth year, Viktor Krum and I were in the library, having a little bit of a… well, a snog.” Hermione began, trying to keep her feet firm on the ground, although all she wanted to do was squirm.

Parkinson whistled. “We’ve all done that.”

“W-well… we were snogging against a shelf, and things got… a little hot and heavy.” Hermione continued.

“How hot and heavy?” Pansy asked.

“He- um- well he had his hand up my skirt and it was the first time that I ever… the first time I ever, you know, had an orgasm.” Hermione giggled nervously on the last word.

“Well, that’s not very embarrassing.” Blaise egged her on.

“Well, I sort of… ended up pushing the shelf over, and it sort of had a domino effect… lucky there weren’t too many shelves in the row. And of course Madame Pince found us. She made us put all the shelves and books back ourselves. By hand.” Hermione finished.

“I hope he washed his first.” Ron said with a cheeky smile as the room began to erupt into giggles.

“Ronald!” Hermione felt herself go beet red.

“How many shelves?” Ginny asked between helpless gasps.

“Four I think.” Hermione replied, humorless.

“Wow, ‘Mione, you must be stronger than I thought. Those shelves are at least ten feet high.” George was clutching his stomach.

Hermione tried to just shake her head, but she couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“I just… I just keep imagining you at the moment the shelf started to go down.” Ginny barely got the words out. She broke into another peal of laughter when George stood to do an impression, starting with a girlish sigh and ending his arms flapping wildly, eyes wide.

“Alright it’s my turn.” Blaise stood as the giggles began to peter out, and smiled at Hermione. “I promise we won’t knock anything over.”

“Can I get that in writing?” She crossed her arms.

“Get it notarized, Granger, Blaise is an excellent kisser.” Malfoy said saucily.

“You kissed him?” Ron blurted out before he could help himself.

Draco shrugged, feeling a mixture of excitement that someone was interested in Blaise, and annoyance that it was a Weasley. “Don’t tell me Gryffindors never experiment. If you tell me you’ve never kissed Potter, you’re lying.”

Ron gaped in response.

“Off topic.” Blaise said, an eyebrow raised.

“Well it’s a little on topic.” Draco inspected his nails. “Granger, have you and Potter-”

“Now, who’s ready to learn the secret of really, really good kissing?” Blaise shook his head at his best friend.

“As one of the few men in the room without first hand experience with Zabini-” George winked at Zabini. “And in the interest of shutting Malfoy up, I’ll say me.”

“Miss Granger, my lovely assistant, will play ‘the kissed’ and I will be your ‘kisser’ this evening.” Blaise grinned and flourished towards Hermione. “Bow, please, Miss Granger.”

She giggled, but complied.

“The key to a really good kiss is not what people think,” He raised his index finger high. “It’s not the lips, or the tongue, although if you want to know the trick to that, it’s ‘less is more.’ But the real trick to a first rate kiss is the hands.”

“The hands, sensei?” Pansy sat up playfully.

“The hands.” Blaise waggled his fingers like a circus ringmaster. “You want to keep them moving, you want to spread the kiss through the whole body. Miss Granger, if you will.”

Hermione stepped forward, and Blaise put both of his hands on her cheeks.

“This is an excellent starting spot. Intimate, and very sexy. Observe.” He laid one kiss on her, his lips loose and relaxed. Slowly, his hands smoothed down her neck, one nail lazily scratching a sensitive spot near her ear. Hermione shivered, giggling as he broke the kiss.

“Rubbing, petting, even a little light scratching, is very sensual,” Blaise said. “This scratch on the side of the neck is my signature move.”

The girls nodded in agreement.

“Keep them moving, and keep it sensual. Try to imagine what would feel best on yourself, and go from there.” He stepped back from Hermione. “And that’s how it’s done. All in the hands.”

The room was filled with a smattering of applause and lots of laughter.

“Thank you, thank you.” He bowed quickly. “And my lovely assistant, Miss Granger, if you please.”

Hermione did a perfunctory curtsy, catching Malfoy’s intensely focused gaze on the way. There. That would show him to play with her mind.

“And now if everyone would like to split off-” Blaise broke off grinning when Ron rose eagerly and tipped his chin towards the kitchen.

“Grab your cloak, Granger. You can use the common room if you’d like,” Malfoy rose too, throwing his remark casually over his shoulder as he headed towards his room.

“My cloak? Why?”

“My dare is that we have to fuck in the potions classroom.” He replied with an edge to his voice as he disappeared into his room.

She choked on her own tongue.

“Kidding. But we will have to evade Filch.” He reappeared in the doorway, fastening his everyday black cloak over his shoulders.

“Not funny.” She hissed.

“Well, the sound you made was a little bit funny.” He smirked at Pansy, who giggled a little. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t touch you even if you were begging for it.”

“Well you were the one begging for it last round.” Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Ron raised his eyebrows and Harry looked at the floor, pink cheeked.

Malfoy just shrugged in response.

“La loro storia d'amore è un vero campo di battaglia.” Blaise said slyly.

“It’s a battlefield, but not a love story.” Hermione snapped back at him, still glaring at Malfoy.

“Just get your cloak, Granger.” Draco wasn’t in any special mood to humor her. She had said just in the last moment of the round that to kiss him was disgusting. She seemed to have an excellent time kissing Blaise. In which case, maybe waiting for a “good” dare was pointless. If she hadn’t felt what he’d felt kissing her… pursuing her was pointless. Pointless, he told himself firmly.

If only he were a better man, and could resist a pointless endeavor.

Hermione grumbled, but retrieved her coat, opening the door for Ginny and Harry, who both gave her a concerned look.

“Is he doing anything... is he being rapey?” Ginny asked as Hermione swung the cloak onto her shoulders.

“Not rapey. Flirty. Annoying. Prat-ish.” Hermione fastened the tie with a little huff. “But I don’t feel in danger.”

“‘Mione, I’m sorry I wanted you to join the game. If you just say the word, we’ll end it. If Ron and George want to keep playing they can, but we can get you out of this.” Harry put a hand on her wrist, looking her in the eyes.

“It’s just a game, Harry. As soon as I’m even remotely uncomfortable I’ll hex him out of the game and into the hospital ward.” Hermione’s eyes slid to the floor. Not technically a lie. But the consequences to getting out of the game could be more monumentally annoying. And…

And another part of her, the part that wasn’t fed up with his antics in front of the group, was still thrumming with excitement from their kiss. Yes, Malfoy was likely playing with her. She knew she had very little physical appeal to offer, between her forgettable body and irrepressible hair. A girl like her only got a few kisses like that in a lifetime. So as long as he was playing… she may as well play too.

\---

Pansy watched more than a little longingly as Malfoy and Granger disappeared out the door, fastening their head girl and head boy badges on as a pretext. Then she glanced back at her partner, sprawled out on the couch with his mismatched socks on display, and rolled her eyes.

He was lying with his eyes closed, his longish auburn hair glinting in the firelight. She had to admit, his face was something to look at. But his loud clothes were a blinding deterrent to doing so.

“You wanted to get him in the game didn’t you?” George asked, cracking an eyelid.

Pansy’s eyes darted back towards the door but she shook her head. “Who?”

“Who?” He laughed, low in his throat. “What are you pretending for?”

Pansy sniffed delicately. “I haven’t broached the subject since we broke up, but yes. I was hoping, maybe, to have Draco as a partner. Which makes you a crushing disappointment.”

“Luv, if that’s what you call a disappointment, I can’t wait to disappoint you all night. On this couch, on this rug, under your blouse,” He waggled his eyebrows. “With a mug.”

She giggled, and then stopped herself. “With a mug?”

“Rhyming is difficult. Besides, mugs are very curvy. There’s potential there.” George peeked at her again through his lashes, trailing his fingers over the back of the couch. She was sitting ramrod straight on a pouf, not a hair out of place.

“I’d pay a lot of money to see you try to use a mug on me,” She raised an eyebrow, catching him peeking.

“Then I guess we’ll have to get you to Gringotts and find us a room with a mirror by the bed.”

That finally made her smile. She looked down at her hands, laughing a little.

“So we have to cuddle?” He asked.

“For at least twenty minutes.” She amended. “What’s your dare.”

“Now don’t get too excited, luv…” He began, amusedly.

“What is it?” She frowned.

“But you have to dress me up however you wish.”

She hooted. “Finally, a dare I can really get behind! Now what should you be…. A ballerina? A pretty pretty princess? OH! A rag doll?”

“Do your worst, because I look fantastic in a dress.” He raised one long, be-trousered leg in the air. “I’ve been told my legs are arrestingly good.”

Pansy shut her eyes and shuddered. “Under what circumstances- You know, I don’t want to know.”

“Oh, but I think you do.” He tipped his chin down and winked. “So you going to dress me up or do I have to do everything myself?”

\---

Harry finished the last brushstroke on Ginny’s hair. Really he could carry on, but his hands were shaking like he was coming down off pixie dust. Her dare was… going to be difficult. Very difficult.

“I’m done.” He announced, wincing at how frustratingly jocular his voice sounded.

She seemed startled, glancing back over her shoulder.

“Uh… Harry?” Ginny’s voice was softer in response, but steady. Maybe she wasn’t nervous at all. Maybe she’d been spanked by every wizard from here to Istanbul and he was the blushing virgin who was going to give her the lamest spanking of her life.

“Yeah, Gin?’

She turned around, forcing herself to meet his eye steadily. Godrick’s Gonads, she was a tough, brave, kick-ass Gryffindor woman. What was it about Harry Potter that made her turn into a simpering mess?

Besides the whole ‘chosen one’ ‘been in love with him since she was ten’ thing.

“I think… we should just set up some ground rules, now that the dares are getting sexual.” She steeled herself, trusting that she could get through the next few minutes without crying.

“Ground rules.” He echoed uncertainly.

“Yes. I mean I know it’s all just for laughs and stuff, but since we… kissed a few times before I didn’t want things to get awkward.” Ginny said.

Harry said nothing.

“Just making sure we have consent and that no one is uncomfortable.” Ginny left the unspoken, that she was sure he was uncomfortable with the whole thing, out of it. He’d done this to get Malfoy off the table as a partner, and for that she was grateful. She was always running headlong into trouble. But if she had to find out later that he’d never wanted to do any of the dares she’d feel sick to her stomach.

Harry was still silent.

“I mean just because they’re dares, doesn’t mean we have to cross a line, right?” Ginny tilted her head, trying to read his blank expression. “Harry? That’s okay right?”

Harry was trying to sort out the emotions at war in his chest. Anger was slicing through him like a hot knife, and regret and sadness were pounding in his ears, almost drowning out Ginny’s words. They’d kissed a few times? Was that it? All this time, he’d been thinking that at least if they didn’t work out, that he’d had a real first love.

Now the person he was in love with was uncomfortable with him.

He couldn’t seem to think clearly. He glanced back at her face and saw red.

“Ginny.” Harry growled.

“Harry?” She replied.

“Do you consent to getting a spanking?”

Ginny froze like a prey animal caught in the woods. She looked into Harry’s green eyes, suddenly dominated by black pupils.

“Y-yes, I do.” She managed to get out.

“Is it okay with you if I get… rough?” His voice had a heaviness to it, like he was speaking parseltongue, and she was a snake, helpless to resist.

“Y-yes, do as you pleas-” Ginny ended on a yelp, as he took her down over his lap. All she could see was the heavy burgundy of Hermione’s bedspread, and the dusty floorboards, blackened with years of heavy wax.

Harry’s hand smoothed over her lower back, holding her firmly in place. A few fingers grazed the space between her sweater and the waistband of her pants, leaving behind little sparks of anticipation.

“Say you want it.” He ordered.

“I wa-want it.” Ginny whispered.

“So you consent?”

“Y-yes.” Ginny’s heart was racing.

His other hand hesitated, and she squeaked, just before it came down hard on her backside.

As soon as he spanked her, his hand was back to soothe the area, palming her arsecheek with one large quidditch-calloused hand.

Ginny could barely breathe, but she still managed a whisper.

“Harr-”

The second caught her on the other cheek and she helplessly giggled at the pain.

“Again, Harr-”

And he did. Again and again and again until the only sounds she could make were whimpers.

“You’re being very brave, Gin,” He said on a pause, his warm hand rubbing her arse. “But I like it better when you beg.”

She eagerly complied, mindlessly repeating his name like a mantra.

\---

“Hoist the mains, ye bastards!”

Hermione nearly ran into Malfoy’s back as the the portrait hole opened suddenly. Sir Magnus had a lot on his plate, and he sometimes wasn’t the most careful portrait.

Malfoy huffed as he felt her hands cling momentarily to the back of his cloak.

They stumbled out into the dimly lit alcove, the faint sounds of the storm in the painting the only noise to be heard.

“Where are we going, Malfoy?” Hermione said in a whisper that barely rose above the waves.

“Bit late for a date, in’t my lad.” Sir Magnus’s voice rang out at full volume.

Malfoy held a finger to his lips at the canvas, but it paid him no mind at all.

“Keeps an eye on th’ Lassie, mate.” Sir Magnus added, still yelling. “I like ‘er.”

“Sod it, let’s get away before Sir Loudmouth blows our cover.” Malfoy’s face shone silvery white in the low candlelight. He looked like an apparition more than a flesh and blood person.

Following his lead, but at a little distance, Hermione slinked around the corner to the main staircase. Malfoy took it swiftly, his footfalls as silent as the fallen slow. She was a little less sure on her feet, and a little less sure of what he was leading her into. It could be a trap.

As soon as the terrible thought occurred to her she couldn’t get it out of her head. He turned back and saw her hesitating at the top of the stairs.

“Kitchens.” He mouthed, gesturing her to come along.

Her feet moved forward as if charmed by his bidding. He slid like a shadow through the foyer toward the great hall and she followed reluctantly behind.

He went down the passageway to the kitchens and then stopped, motioning to an alcove.

“Granger,” He whispered, the shadows obscuring him but for a glint of blonde hair and the sparkle of his eyes. “Get the led out. I know you’ve snuck out before.”

“Why are we going to the kitchens?” She whispered back, her voice sharp.

“Come on Granger, don’t you trust me?” Though they'd started out with yards between them, he’d somehow slipped a little closer, his breath lingering on her ear and neck and sending a delicious chill down her spine.

“Quit trying to be ominous and tell me what your dar-”

The sound of footfalls in the distance caused her to freeze, the word dying on her lips.

He murmured something unintelligible in her ear.

“What?” She asked on a sigh, almost breathless.

The footsteps became louder.

He wasn’t touching her but she could feel every inch of his body radiating heat at her.

“Someone’s coming.” Hermione’s heart was pounding in her ears.

He turned towards her, a sarcastic glint in his eye, and mouthed the word ‘duh.’

He fell silent as the footsteps came ever closer, but she could feel him, her body swaying slightly towards his and out of the dangerous light of the passageway.

His presence threaded through her whole body as fear of getting caught gripped her. She leaned back, finding her back against his chest. Yards and yards of cloak fabric swirled between them as she tried to get to the very back of the alcove.

His chin grazed her shoulder. The back of her head brushed against his chest, both tiny points of contact sending fire racing through her veins. Her stomach dropped out from under her, and she had the sensation of flying and falling all at once. But he was still as a statue. She realized with a start that it was all her. She was breathless, and blushing just by barely touching him. One kiss and she was all butterflied. She couldn’t blame this reaction on anything other than what it was: attraction.

“Malfoy…” She trailed off, finding his arm with her hand and gripping tightly.

The footsteps circled back and retreated, out of sight. After a long moment of held breath, Hermione relaxed her hold on him, her back barely resting against her his chest.

“Let’s move.” He said, his chin finding a spot on her shoulder briefly before he moved out from behind her and headed out into the broaching candlelight of the hallway.

She followed, head down, heart still beating like a drum in her ears.

Draco shook his head as he swept through the passageway leading to the kitchens, ignoring his heartbeat hammering in his ears. He was being careless when he meant to be cold. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age. The Draco of a few years ago would have shaken off her rejection and gotten right back on the horse. Metaphorically of course.

Then again the Draco of a few years ago was a scheming little git who didn’t know how to take a bloody hint.

And if you’re feeling fireworks after the best kiss of your life, and the girl says it was ‘disgusting’ that’s a pretty big hint to stay away. When the same girl agrees to snog your best friend without hesitation, that is a very big hint to stay away. And it seemed as though the cards were doing what she wanted.

So be it. He couldn’t be wanted by everyone. Passion was sometimes one sided.

He just wasn’t expecting it to sting quite so badly.

The kitchens were empty at this time of night, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the creature he’d been most hoping to see was washing dishes, a precarious tower of knitted caps balanced on his tiny head.

“Dobby.” He began.

Dobby flinched, nearly dropping a goblet on the floor, but caught himself in the knick of time. He turned slowly, and then the apprehension faded from his huge eyes.

“Master Draco! Your voice has gotten much deeper.” Dobby shook his head. “For a moment Dobby thought you was Master Lucius.”

“I’m sorry. I should have announced myself.” Draco probably looked as stiff as he felt. “But I brought someone, who you’ll doubtless be much happier to see.”

He stepped aside as Hermione stumbled through the passageway.

Dobby’s face split into a wide smile. “Hermione Granger, miss!”

She smiled back, holding out her hands for Dobby to walk into. They hugged for a second, Dobby’s long body fingers digging into the back of her knees.

“I’m so happy to see you, Dobby!” Hermione grinned.

“And Dobby is happy to see you, Miss! But why are you here?” Dobby eyed Draco balefully, clearly wondering not ‘why’ but rather ‘why, with him?’

Draco cleared his throat. “Actually, I was hoping you would be here Dobby. I uh… have to ask a favor of you.”

“A favor, Master Draco?” Dobby’s eyes darted towards Draco’s forearm, and he had to hold himself back from rubbing it self-consciously.

“Ah… yeah. Do you remember when mother and I went away to France for the summer, and when we came back, we brought you some flans pâtissier, and you made it for us?” Draco hadn’t seen his former house elf since his father had come home and announced that Dobby had been freed. Lucius was, as to be expected, incensed and humiliated, relaying the story multiple times. At the time, Draco had not even understood that a house elf could be freed.

Now, faced with the creature who had undoubtedly seen the worst of his abhorrent childhood, he felt as though he was introducing himself to his mother. And she was very disappointed.

Dobby’s eyes lit up, but he still hung back towards Hermione. “Dobby remembers.”

“If it was for me, of course, I wouldn’t have asked. But would you mind making them for G… for Miss Granger?” Draco gave a little formal bow. “Please?”

“Dobby would be happy to make anything for a friend of Harry Potter’s. Especially a friend so dear.” Dobby snapped his fingers and several small ramekins floated out of the rack of drying dishes.

Hermione watched their little exchange with unconcealed interest. She had never seen Malfoy ashamed before. Rude, obnoxious, and slimy, yes, but never ashamed.

“Please sit down.” Dobby gestured at a set of miniature stools built for House Elves.

“Uh…” Draco eyed the tiny stool. He wasn’t trying to make the moves on Granger anymore, but he didn’t want to look like a giant in a thimble in front of her.

Hermione charmed the stools and their attendant section of countertop to a more manageable size, and sat down with a satisfied smile. “And you call yourself a wizard.”

He sat next to her, pulling his cloak closer so that it wouldn’t brush her accidentally. “It’s rude to alter the belongings of your host. Haven’t you ever run across a book of wizarding etiquette?”

She raised an eyebrow, eyes sparkling. “I don’t believe there is such a thing.”

Draco shook his head. “I’m going to assume that any effort made to correct you will be taken as hostility, and say nothing.”

She rested her chin on her palm, looking slightly up at him. “Smart man.”

“That’s what they say, Granger.” He replied in a neutral tone, ignoring the flare of arousal that raced down his body when she looked at him.

“So what does wizarding etiquette say about insulting people during a friendly game of truth or dare?” She pursed her lips.

His nortrils flared and he gave Hermione a cold look. “Games all follow the same rules of sportsmanship as muggles I imagine. But, as in so many other arenas, there is an exception for the great, the all powerful, Harry Potter.”

She shook her head. “We were getting along so well last round, I don’t understand you.”

“Perhaps calling someone disgusting falls under a new definition of ‘getting along’ that I’ve never heard of.” He said, pushing back the sleeves of his cloak and shirt hastily, revealing creamy forearms marred by the depthless black ink of his dark mark.

Hermione looked away, her eyes prickling at just the sight of it.

He didn’t notice her discomfort, just continuing on, his voice low so Dobby wouldn’t hear. “You’ll be glad to know my card is just to feed you dessert. Never fear, Granger, I won’t do anything ‘disgusting’ ever again.”

She turned back to him, but stayed mute. A million responses filtered through her mind, some barbed, some probably more honest than she could trust herself to be.

Was he trying to manipulate her? He already had her participation in the game, wasn’t that what he wanted?

On the other hand, what did she want? Kisses could lead her down the path to a whole host of very dangerous possibilities. Usually, it was easy to sort out her emotions, especially when it came to boys. Then again, she’d only had real feelings for Ron before.

Possibly it was the kiss, messing with her head. Or him, messing with her head. Or the night, so surreal and strange, tricking her into doubting herself.

He was ignorant to her inner turmoil, staring mulishly in the direction of Dobby, who was whipping something up in a bowl.

Until she had further information, she’d have to just take this as a game, task by task. It wouldn’t help if he was mad at her, but she couldn’t exactly reveal how much she had liked the kiss without revealing that she had wanted it. So instead, she reached out and took his hand, turning his arm over so that the dark mark lay face up, and ran her hands over the black lines.

Draco nearly fell off his stool. “What are you doing?”

“The ministry said that, when he died, they would all fade, but you still have yours.” She half expected it to burn her hand, but it was just skin, with a hint of electric magic below the surface.

“When I moved up in the ranks, I put another underneath the original. I was turning over information to the other side, and I’d heard rumors that it would fade if your dedication wasn’t true. Voldemort’s may have faded but it’s facsimile won’t.” He pulled his arm away from her touch. “Not for lack of trying.”

“That’s very brave.” She said, surprising herself.

“One way of looking at it.” He looked away, unnerved by her attention. “Saving my skin is another.”

Luckily Hermione was saved from responding to that bombshell.

“Dobby hopes you will like them miss. An-And Master Draco too.” A plate levitated up between them, laden with more than a dozen custard tarts and a few small crisp green apples.

“Thank you so much, Dobby. It looks delicious.” Hermione’s mouth began to water as the smell of the warm crusts rose to meet her.

“Thank you, Dobby. And please, don’t call me that. I’m no one’s master now.” Draco smiled down at the little elf uncomfortably.

“Dobby will call Master Draco what he likes.” Dobby replied, proudly.

“Right, yes, I just meant…” Draco stiffened, glancing up at Hermione. “I’m sorry. About my father. And me, of course. I apologize for my behavior.”

Dobby blinked up at him a long moment, and then nodded. “Dobby must go to bed, now. Please leave the dish by the sink.”

“Dobby, let me wash-” Hermione blinked and the elf was gone, presumably off to his little bed.

“I’m sorry for that.” Malfoy said after a pause.

“If you were trying to apologize for my benefit, I assure you it didn’t work.” Hermione sniffed, reaching for a pastry before Malfoy rudely snatched it away. “But for Dobby’s sake, I’m glad you did.”

“Why would I apologize for your benefit?” Draco snatched a second out of her hands. Bloody women, wouldn’t even give you a chance to explain before interrupting.

“Because of SPEW? To look more reformed and wholesome?”

“You’re as suspicious as a Slytherin, you know that?” Malfoy snapped. “Just let me have them, Granger.”

“Why won’t you let me have one?” Hermione ground out the words between her teeth.

“I’m supposed to feed you by hand, you daft woman.” He pulled the whole dish away from her.

“Oh. I thought you were just being deliberately mean.” She shook her head, stopping when he pressed a tart against her lips. She bit into it and fought down a moan. The crust was incredibly buttery and flakey, and the custard was creamy and slightly spiced.

“They’re good right? I have dreams about Dobby’s flans pâtissier.” He urged her to take the second bite, carefully keeping his fingers out of her mouth. The last thing he needed was a reminder that as enticing as he found her, she found him disgusting. Best not to revisit anything sexual.

She covered her mouth with a hand before speaking. “Delicious.”

“Have it with the apple, trust me.” He held the apple out in front of her.

“It’s not poisoned, is it?” She joked, her eyes resting on his homemade dark mark.

He turned it over in his hand, confused. “Not unless Dobby’s added something to the recipe just for me.”

“No… I meant like in Snow White.” She raised her hand to brush down her curls self consciously.

“Snow what?”

“Snow White. It’s another fairy tale. You know, because we were talking about Cinderella earlier?” Hermione knew logically that she hadn’t said anything wrong, but she still felt foolish, somehow.

“Granger, let's assume from now on that if it’s a muggle fairy tale, I haven’t heard it.” He cracked a smile for the first time since they’d come into the kitchens, her heart skipping a little when his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“I’m sure you don’t want to hear it.” She frowned.

He began to slice into the apple with a knife Dobby had provided. “And just feed you in silence, running my fingers over your lips, drinking in the passion in your lusty eyes-”

Hermione choked on her own spit. “Excuse me!”

“Pardon, I just figured it might be a better way to pass the time than me being disgusting.” He continued lightly, until the last word, which was laced with unexpected venom.

Hermione huffed slightly. “I… I didn’t mean-”

Draco looked up and she froze.

“I was embarrassed and I just… wanted to save face. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” She had her eyebrows raised in surprise. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

Draco briefly toyed with the idea of pretending he hadn’t been hurt. But, given that he’d been acting like a fussy first year, that action would probably just seem pathetic.

“My… offended feelings may have led me to bait Potter more than is strictly necessary,” Draco conceded by way of apology.

“And Ronald.” She hinted.

“And… Weasley too. I guess.” He rolled his eyes.

Hermione hesitated, swallowing before she trusted herself to speak again, “It wasn’t disgusting.”

In an instant his face went from concerned and contrite to smug and smirking. “Oh I’m so sorry, Granger, I didn’t hear you. Please, will you say it again?” He held his hand to his ear.

She lightly smacked his hand away from his ear.

“Granger, I have become hard of hearing, have some compassion for a poor wizard.” He raised his hand again.

“I liked it, you prat, are you happy?” She said through a smile.

He grinned, and looked down at the plate, lifting another tart to her lips.

She bit into it under his gaze.

“Very happy, Granger.”

She swallowed, leaning across the table to kiss him.

Draco would have collapsed if he hadn’t been supported by his stool. He licked her full lower lip and dropped the pastry on the table to tangle a hand in her hair. She tasted like flans pâtissier, and he was more than sure that he tasted like surrender.

\---

Ron kept his eyes trained on the kitchen door. If he turned around, Blaise was sure to notice that Ron was beet red with embarrassment. _You probably clash with your hair_ , he thought, closing his eyes.

Blaise laughed and smacked a hand on his behind, clapping along to the weird sisters song Ron had elected to play.

Ron swayed his hips from side to side, dipping down to rub against his partner’s lap. He closed his eyes and tried to be somewhere else. He wasn’t really the sort of man who danced in public, or at all really. It made him feel vulnerable in a way he had never been comfortable with.

The song ended mercifully quickly, and Ron rested his hands against the counter.

Blaise grinned. There was something honestly so attractive about a man who was shy.

“Hey, Weasley.” He called.

Ron turned slightly.

Blaise crooked his finger, and then when Ron didn’t move, he reached out and pulled the other man closer.

“It was just a dare, no one has to know.” He grinned up at his flushed partner.

“Yeah, well you’ll know.” Ron replied.

“Are you getting embarrassed on me now?” Blaise had no compunction about reaching out to the other man’s chin, and pulling him closer. “Where’s your Gryffindor spirit?”

Ron was helpless to whatever was happening between them. In just the last hour, Zabini had gone from a quiet classmate, albeit a very attractive one, to someone Ron sought very much to impress.

They kissed each other again, their lips drawn as if by an irresistible spell. Ron could feel himself holding back, clutching tightly to a thin strand of normalcy.

But normally, on a night like this he would be leaving his friends and heading to bed alone, his mind stuck in the mire of what might be. He’d been turning over his sexuality for a long time, and in part it had contributed to his breakup with Hermione. He hadn’t known how to explain to her something that he couldn’t properly explain to himself. He wasn’t a thinker, he was a do-er.

And Zabini wasn’t asking for explanations. He was only asking for this, which Ron, to his own alarm, found he wanted to give him very badly.

Ron trailed a hand along his partner’s chest, and gave in to not knowing.


End file.
